Life Goes On
by LordGrimwing
Summary: A little look at what Red Alert's life was like after being taken from his sire. Takes place a few months after 'Time's Supposed to Heal Ya' ends.


"Red Alert." Said mechling raised his head to stare at the femme across the small table from him. She was thin and had a voice that was just high enough to be annoying. A slight grown graced her face. "Are you going to eat or just watch as the energon congeals?" Her tone was full of exasperation. They'd had this conversation before.

The white and red mechling push the bowl away from him. "I don't want it." He muttered.

Starlight set her spoon down. "What do you mean you don't want it?" An expression of total consternation covered her face. "We had this last night and you loved it."

"Well, I don't want it." Red Alert scowled at the table top. "It's terrible."

Two open servos slapped onto the table, making the bowls tremble. "Red Alert." The angry words came from Quickhaul, who had the third and last seat. "What has gotten into you today?!" He leaned toward to mechling. "You've been back talking Starlight since you got up this morning, you were sent to the principal's office three times, and now this! Are you trying to get yourself punished?!" The school teacher shouted.

Red Alert glared back defiantly. He'd lived with Quickhaul and Starlight for almost three months now and if there was one thing he'd learned about them, it was that they didn't punish him as his sire had. Not once in the time he'd lived in the house had Quickhaul hit him for disobeying or Starlight refuse to let him refuel at meal time. Instead, the femme sent him up to his room for an hour when he really got on her nerves and the mech lectured him for being disrespectful and disobedient. Red Alert really wasn't sure how they saw those things as punishment.

The mechling finally responded to the irate mech. "I don't care."

"That's it." Quickhaul stood up. He strode over to Red Alert and pulled his seat back from the table. "Young mech," He pulled the nuisance up by his shoulder plating, "you take this," he shoved the bowl into small fingers, "go up to your room," he shoved the solon child toward the stairs, "and don't come out until you've eaten it all and are ready to apologize to Starlight."

Glaring, Red Alert silently did as ordered: trekking up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room. Below him, in a awkward silence, Starlight and Quickhaul sat.

"I can't take much more of this."

"The social worker's coming back next week to see how things are going."

"We're sending him back. I'm sure there's a better family out there, one that can handle him."

The late night transport was mostly empty, a few of the seats were taken up by resting bodies. On the front row bench, a white and red mechling played with his fingers, lacing them between each other and then pulling them apart. A shabbily painted mech sat next to him, going through a data pad of forms about exactly why the child's foster parents didn't want him any more.

He rubbed at an itchy spot between his optics. After hearing what the young bonded couple had to say, he had the feeling that he was going to become way too familiar with this part of his job because of the mechling next to him.

"Excuse me."

The social worker looked down. "Yes?"

"Do I get to go home now?" The child wasn't playing with his fingers anymore, they were curled neatly in his lap.

"No, you're not going to live with Quickhaul and Starlight anymore." He returned to his work, considering the question answered.

Red Alert swallowed hard. "Am I going to go live with my sire again?"

Snorting, the gray mech shook his helm. "Pit no kid. You're never going back to him."

"Oh." Red Alert sniffled. "Okay."

Slouching more into his chair, the mechling let his optics close, wishing to forget reality as it was. Firestorm used to tell stories, late at night, when he was too scared to fall into recharge, about the magical lands that his spark could fly to when it didn't have to power his frame. Red Alert wished he could escape to one now. He'd been to a few-he could faintly remember them as a warm and fuzzy feeling when he would wake the next day. Slowly, the red and white mechling slipped into recharge.

"Little Red, time to rise." Firestorm gently rouse his creation. Red Alert knew he was dreaming. "You're going to the park with Prowl's family today, remember? You need to get ready."

The little sat up, rubbing at his optics. "I am? I am!" With a cry of joy, Red Alert was out of his small bed and sliding a shinning cloth over his frame.

Firestorm smiled as he watched the mechling work, the creases around his optics turning upward. When the child was finished cleaning, Firestorm followed him out into the dining and cooking room. A boiling cube of energon and gallium waited from him on the heater.

"You'll be with them all day." The grown-up reminded. "So be sure to treat his parents exactly as you would me."

Red Alert set down the empty container. "Yes sir!" He snatched up his 'going out' bag (it had a basic first aid kit, the number to both Firstorm's work and personal communication lines, a distress beacon, and a special little communicator that messaged straight to the enforcers. They were all just in case of an emergency) as he ran toward the door.

Firestorm stopped the excited youngling before he could make onto the porch. Kneeling down, he oped his yellow and red arms. "A hug before you go?"

Red Alert happily complied, throwing himself into the open arms.

"Be safe." Firestar murmured, slowly letting his only creation go, watching him run down the path the the gate, and out into the city beyond.

The bus jolted to a stop. Red Alert's optics snapped open.

"This is our stop." The social worker stood, waiting for the child to follow. It only took moment, then the pair was off the transport and standing in front of a building that Red Alert knew well enough to recognize in the dark of night.

"I don't want to come back here." He begged as the larger mech held him by the arm and began walking up the stairs. 'I just want to go home." He added to himself.

"You don't have a choice child." The social worker replied. "If you'd just behaved, you wouldn't have too."

Life went on. Red Alert became very familiar with the youngling shelter.


End file.
